


Harry Potter and the Marque of Providence (ON HOLD TILL FURTHER NOTICE)

by VermillionQ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Technology, Blood Magic, Cedric Diggory Lives, Dark Magic, Dumbledore's Army, Elemental Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Friends to Lovers, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Magical Tattoos, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Other, Prophecy, Rich Harry, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermillionQ/pseuds/VermillionQ
Summary: 02/07/2021 - due to multiple other writing projects I've decided to put this story on hold. I promise to return to it and do it justice, but for the time being it is on hold.Harry Potter has spent five long years facing down murderous teachers, overgrown lizards, dark wizards, regrowing bones, and about one million other fresh hells. Now, after the ministry finally accepts that Voldemort has returned, he faces his next year at Hogwarts, his sixth. On the cusp of turning sixteen, Harry and his friends learn that his wizarding inheritance is more than just adding some money to his vault at Gringotts. They learn more about Harry's destiny, of who he is meant to become and, even more, just why it's so imperative he defeat Voldemort.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Harry Potter and the Marque of Providence (ON HOLD TILL FURTHER NOTICE)

**Author's Note:**

> Character Changes: Harry Potter - Nick Robinson, Draco Malfoy – Hunter Parrish, Cedric Diggory – Henry Cavill
> 
> Major Plot Points/Deviations: Magic is more complex in this. Draco Malfoy is different. His parents were caught and imprisoned after the first war so he was raised by Ted and Andromeda Tonks, with his older cousin Tonks being his best friend/surrogate older sister. The Weasley’s are wonderful, but Ron’s jealousness of everyone, especially his brothers, has turned him into a bully. Cedric is in the year ahead of Harry, considered the most popular boy in his year, if not school, and survived the graveyard. He has been on friendly terms with Harry though they haven’t gotten to know one another. The Trio (H, D, H) discovered the Room of Requirement in their second year when they almost got caught brewing Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. It is now their regular haunt.

Harry Potter was on the cusp of turning 16. Three more days till July 31st and he’d be officially on the year long eve of his ascension to Wizarding adulthood. “Fat lot of good it’s done me,” he muttered as he pushed the lawnmower over the already pristine lawn of Number 4 Privet Drive. That summer had passed by in a blur. He anxiously scanned the Daily Prophet, reading as developments came to light in regard to the beginning of Great Britain’s Second Wizarding War. He finished the chore, hot and sweaty from the sun beating down upon him. He quickly put the machine away and stole inside quietly. 

He heard the noise of the TV, a boxing match from the sound of it, and the rumbles of his muscular cousin Dudley as he snored away. Harry quietly poured himself a glass of ice water and went up to his room, glad that his aunt and uncle had gone on to some garden party where they’d, doubtlessly, show off. He shut the door softly, before turning to the mess that awaited him. His desk was neat and orderly, but the remainder of his life was currently flung around his room. Old school books, laundry, bits and pieces of broken chachkis like his dimestore sneakoscope, and the accumulated detritus of five years of magical schooling. A letter from Hermione had made this all necessary. It sat on his desk.

_ Harry, _

_ I do hope you’re well and don’t worry, we’ll all be together again soon. I was told to write to you by Mrs. Tonks. She says, and I quote, “Harry had best clean out that filthy trunk of his or I’ll do it myself, at wand point if need be.” So this is just a fair warning that perhaps you’d want to do so? I think she has a few things she wants you to take to Hogwarts this year. So you had best make room. Anyhow, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be spending the remainder of the summer holidays at the Tonks with Draco. I think Luna’s plan was to come daily by floo powder. Is there any chance we can maybe find a way to have you stay for August? Tonks said she’d come and grab you if Dumbledore allows it. Mr. and Mrs. Tonks are already planning to get you on the train. _

_ Let me know! _

_ All my love, _

_ Hermione _

Harry had re-read the letter a countless number of times after he’d sent his reply. It was one of the happier things he’d read all summer. He picked up an old Daily Prophet. Right there on the front cover was Amelia Bones, standing in black robes, a single golden pin in the shape of an M on her breast. The headline read “Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, named Minister for Magic by Wizengamot in an extraordinary session.” He couldn't help but smile as he observed Tonks, Kingsley, and the ferocious Mad-Eye right behind her along with Dumbledore, who had apparently been named, reluctantly, according to the paper, as a Special Advisor to the Minister. Mad-Eye had taken over as Head Auror as the previous appointee, a Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, was now Deputy Minister, and responsible for coordinating the Anti-Voldemort efforts.

Harry sighed again and picked up another old paper, the one announcing Sirius’ innocence, and death, along with the truth about Peter Pettigrew. It also offered a 50,000 galleon reward for any information that proved credible and valuable in regard to his capture. Hedwig hooted at him, a reminder. He began sorting through more laundry, disgruntled at the state of his clothes. Dudley’s old hand me downs were always a spot of embarrassment for him, especially at school. Hermione had finally shrunk some of his “decent” clothes to acceptable sizes and shapes for him, but they were all folded and ready to be packed whereas his oversized and baggy items were still his chosen summer wardrobe. Just as he moved on to deciding which school books would go with him, or be kept at home, versus the ones that would be donated he heard a rap on his window.

He looked up and sprung forward. Fawkes the Phoenix was perched, regally, on the windowsill. He opened the window, the phoenix gliding right in and perching next to Hedwig who bowed her head and let Fawkes drink from her water dish. The phoenix gave a lyrical coo in thanks. Harry looked at the scarlet and gold bird, noticing an envelope tied to its leg, as well as a small brown package. Fawkes held out his leg. 

Harry opened the letter first. Written in green ink and Dumbledore’s neat, tidy script was a letter.

_ Harry, _

_ I hope you’ve been enjoying the summer holidays. I am writing to you in regard to a number of things. First, I believe it is time I take a direct hand in your education and would like you to take private lessons with me this coming year. Secondly, I will call on you this Friday, the 30th of July, at 8:00 P.M. to escort you to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Tonks, where you have been invited to spend the rest of the summer holidays and be seen by them onto the train to school on September the 1st.  _

_ Thirdly, and last, I’d like to make you aware of something of note and importance - you were named Sirius’ sole heir and therefore have taken ownership of the Black Family Vault, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and a few other objects of note. I will explain in more detail this Friday.  _

_ I have had Fawkes bring the keys to both house and vault, and respectfully request that he remain at your residence until I arrive to fetch you. He’s been terribly busy with all of the flying about I’ve asked of him and a rest in your charming bedroom would do him good. I will see you on Friday. _

_ Sincerely, your friend, _

_ Albus Dumbledore _

Harry re-read the letter multiple times, his eyes growing bigger each time. He finally tore his eyes away to look up at the Headmaster’s companion. He now could see what the headmaster meant. Fawkes plumage seemed to have lost some luster, and the soft feathers around his eyes seemed to have taken on an ashen color. “Fawkes...are those bags,” he asked trepidatiously, not wishing to offend. The phoenix ruffled his feathers, as if to say yes. Harry couldn’t help but reach out and pet him, the great bird nuzzling back. “Rest then, you’ve deserved it.” Hedwig hooted in agreement, affectionately nipping Harry’s fingers and Fawke’s beak. She then looked at Harry with an amber eye. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, get it done.” Harry returned to his cleaning with a newfound vigor. The package of keys remained unopened on his bedside table. 

**______________________________**

Harry calmly walked into the kitchen, dinner already laid out. His aunt and uncle had returned to the house sometime right after he’d finished cleaning his room. He was now about to have a conversation he dreaded, but he knew he had to get it done. “Uncle Vernon,” he asked in a flat voice. His Uncle grunted. He was listening. 

“I’ve been asked to spend the rest of my holidays with my friends' aunt and uncle, they can get me on the train back to school. I’ll be picked up on Friday at 8 o’clock.” He had spoken quickly, in a flat tone of voice, staring resolutely at his uncle’s red face. His uncle had turned a few shades varying between beet red to a pale bone colored, to a mixture now that made him think of cherry ice cream. He seemed to gulp like a fish while Petunia and Dudley watched and waited for what felt like an inevitable explosion. 

“Who says….that you can just….who are you to demand...who are you to just make decisions without my approval!?” He roared. Petunia’s face screwed up as she looked at Harry, almost seeming as if she were going to cry or launch a tirade. Dudley just stared wide eyed. 

“I’ll be gone a month earlier than you thought to be rid of me.” That had done it. Uncle Vernon immediately saw the wisdom in Harry’s words. He loathed Harry’s happiness, but loathed having his nephew around even more. “Well...I don’t....fine. But they’d better be fetching you! I haven’t time to cart you around.” All Harry did was nod and begin eating. Within ten minutes, the Dursleys were moving on to another topic, Uncle Vernon complaining, again, about various things he didn’t like. Internally Harry was punching the air in excitement. Outwardly his face was a blank slate.

As dinner finished the Dursley’s retired to the den, the tv nice and loud. Harry had one last thing to do. “Aunt Petunia,” he asked quietly. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. 

“What,” her voice was sharp and somewhat shrill, as if wondering how dare he deign to speak to her. Harry ignored his wanting to give her a good verbal tirade, as he so wished to do, and plowed forward. 

“I have a bunch of old things I need to be rid of before the school year. Normal things like clothes.” He’d thrown in, seeing the look of alarm on her face. “I’ve already cleaned and folded and sorted everything. It’s in my room. Can it be taken to a dump or someplace where they give things away to charity.” Before Petunia could even respond it was Dudley who piped up, to Harry’s surprise. 

“The church on Parsnip Street is looking for donations of clothes and furniture and things. We can take it all there tomorrow.” Dudley hadn’t even looked at him, but his neck was red from embarrassment it seemed. Petunia and Dursley looked at their son with surprise before Petunia broke into sobs. 

“Dudders you’re so kind! What a thoughtful thing!” Harry rolled his eyes and left, knowing he was done as he heard his aunt and uncle heap unwarranted praise on their son for Harry’s idea of giving his own things away to charity. 

**______________________________**

July 29th dawned, Harry ticking off the day mentally. A wednesday, Harry waited for his Aunt and Uncle to be downstairs before washing up. He got dressed, throwing on one of the outfits that Hermione had shrunk and remade for him. Dudley’s old jeans, dyed gray by his aunt, now fit snugly without needing a belt. A plain navy blue v-neck that had once been a triple x on him now hugged his, admittedly, muscled and lithe arms. He pulled on his old and ratty trainers before bounding downstairs. Dudley was, by the looks of it, waiting for him in the kitchen, dressed similarly. He pushed a cup of coffee towards the green-eyed boy.

Harry looked at it and then back at his cousin. He shrugged sheepishly before sipping his own. Harry had learned over the years to keep quiet and to keep to the shadows. It’d served him well. Now he wasn’t sure. He picked up the coffee, sniffing it. It smelled like coffee. It had cream in it, just like Harry drank it. He took a tentative sip, surprised. He looked at Dudley. The muscular boy didn’t look at him, just washed his mug before going upstairs. As Harry continued to drink, he heard thundering footsteps as Dudley came back downstairs. His eyes were wide. Harry groaned silently. 

“Fawkes,” he muttered.

**______________________________**

Harry led Dudley back upstairs, promising that the bird wouldn’t hurt him, that yes it was magical in nature, and that he absolutely needed to keep it a secret. Slowly Dudley entered the room, keeping his back to the wall. Harry rolled his eyes. “Dudley,” he said slowly, as if talking to a child, “this is Fawkes. Fawkes this is Dudley.” Fawkes made a trilling sound. Dudley just stared. “Well come on, let's get this over with.” Harry’s words were firm, jolting Dudley into action. All in all, it wasn’t a ton. A few bags of clothes, a broken desk chair, and other assorted goods like an old lamp and such. Soon it was all loaded in Dudley’s car, a four door he’d gotten as a present for winning a title last year in his boxing division. His aunt and uncle always found excuses to spoil their son. Harry had never been inside the car. Dudley turned it on, music coming from the stereo but he quickly shut off the music. 

They silently drove, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Out of nowhere Dudley asked him a question. “What is he?” The words seemed to come out with a force of air, like Dudley had been holding it in. Harry knew what he was asking without clarification.

“He’s a Phoenix.” Dudley stopped at a sign with a jerk of the brakes and turned to Harry wide eyed. 

“Aren’t those birds that are on fire?” Harry looked at Dudley with surprise before nodding slowly and explaining how Fawkes lived, died, and was reborn. Dudley seemed to relax as he learned the bird wasn’t going to suddenly set fire to the house. they settled into silence again. “Is he yours,” Dudley asked, this time in a forced casual voice. Harry shook his head no.

“I’m holding him until I leave. He belongs to the Headmaster of my school. He’ll leave with us on Friday.” Dudley nodded, as if understanding.

“Your Headmaster must like you,” he said as he pulled into the Anglican Church on Parsnip Street. Harry just shrugged, not entirely comfortable with revealing things about his life to someone he’d spent almost a solid 16 years in dislike of. They unloaded all of the items. A few other cars were also parked, people bringing similar things like blankets, old clothes, and such. Harry and Dudley put everything on the lawn, directed by an older woman with a kind smile. They quickly deposited their things and made their way back to the car. As they did so, Harry noticed a cat casually lounging on the hood. It stared at them, unblinking. Dudley tried to shoo it off. It looked at him, blinked once, before turning to look at Harry. 

“Um...Harry,” Dudley asked, “Is this cat...ya know...like you?” Harry shrugged.

“My guess is yes if it's acting like this. Cats are familiars, animal companions,” he added at his cousin’s confused look, “to many Hogwarts students.” Dudley jumped at hearing Harry’s school’s name. He was ignored by his cousin. “However, this cat...I think I know who it belongs to.” He then looked around and was surprised, but not entirely, to find Mrs. Figg. Instead of her usual “old lady” outfit she was dressed in a lilac pleated top and long black skirt. Her hair was in a braid, held by a brass hair net with little crystals. Her normal carpet bag had been replaced by a large amber purse that Harry recognized as dragon hide. He walked over, not caring if Dudley followed.

“Keeping an eye on me,” he asked as he sat down next to her, cleaning his glasses on his shirt before putting them back on. She shrugged, putting on a pair of cat eye sunglasses. Mr Tibbles poked his head out from the bag, and the cat that had lounged on Dudley’s car came slinking over. 

“Why do you think you haven’t seen Aurors or Hit-Wizards guarding every road into Privet Drive?” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the smell of longbottom leaf filling the hot summer air. She winked and blew out a few smoke rings, waving painted fingernails at Dudley. “Dumbledore didn’t think it necessary.” She took another drag. Harry nodded and then motioned at her outfit. “It’s not necessary to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore.” A black cat with ice blue eyes sauntered up to her and meowed. She sighed and stood. “Duty calls. Stop by tomorrow before Dumbledore arrives. I have a few things for you.” She ruffled his hair and walked off, black heels clicking against the ground while two cats followed in her wake, Mr. Tibbles head poking out to look at Harry. 

“Was that...is it... Harry, is that Mrs. figg?” Harry ignored Dudley and got in the car. 

  
  


Dudley left Harry alone after that, surprising Harry by keeping the secret of Fawkes to himself, which he determined to be true as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn’t come raging up the stairs and down the hall to his room. Harry began to pack his trunk, neatly and tidily, knowing that Andromeda wouldn't settle for anything other than that. On the desk were the things that he treasured most. A magical penknife, restored by Dumbledore after it melted in the Department of Mysteries, twin magical mirrors, his broom servicing kit that was still pristine after all these years, his luxury eagle feather quill set with brass handle, his teeth armed anti-theft wallet, and then his three most precious; the Firebolt, the Marauder's Map, and the Invisibility Cloak. He placed everything in the trunk, closed it, and put the firebolt on top. He looked around the room. It seemed so empty with everything put away except his outfit for tomorrow. 

He looked up at Hedwig and Fawkes, both looking at him expectantly. He shrugged, “just odd is all. Like I’m never coming back, though I know I am.”

**______________________________**

His sleep that night was restless, dreams and nightmares coming in waves. He finally awoke in a cold sweat at 4 A.M. only to jump as Fawkes fanned his wings and burst into flames. As quickly as it began, it ended, and the floor of Hedwig’s pristine cage was now littered with ashes and a tiny, runty looking Phoenix that began to eat the ashes. He sighed and flopped back into bed. 

  
  


Hedwig had seemed amused as Harry gathered the remaining phoenix ash into a jar, storing it in his trunk, knowing it’d come in handy. Now her cage was pristine again, but she enjoyed watching him be forced to clean another mess when she returned from her nightly jaunt. Harry washed and dressed, before his Aunt and Uncle for once, before stealing out of the house. He shivered in the early morning air, even though he wore a cream colored cashmere sweater that Mrs. Tonks had gotten him for Christmas. It was supposed to be cool today, barely breaking 70. He walked the few streets over to Mrs. Figg’s house. 

It was different. The floral curtains had been replaced by thick drapes of taupe, the windows shone, freshly washed. The gardens were pristine and Harry noticed a flutterby bush placed strategically among the azaleas. He walked up the steps and noticed a tiny little red two door in the driveway. The door swung open and the cat Snowy came out. He noticed now that Snowy’s tail and ears had tufts on them that weren’t there before. Snowy wound around his legs, purring. Harry scratched behind his ear. “You’re a kneazle, a full one, aren’t you.” It was a statement. Snowy purred louder. Harry walked inside. 

The house had changed. The carpet had been replaced with dark hardwood, the walls a fresh light gray, and the furniture both comfortable and large, but more modern and not mismatched. There was no cat smell either, but lavender and tobacco. Mrs. Figg sat in a wingback chair, food spread on the coffee table, and Mr. Tibbles in her lap. She smiled, “spot of breakfast, dear?”

  
  


Harry didn’t talk much, but gladly listened as Mrs. Figg explained, briefly, her history and how she came to be in Little Whinging. Even though she was a squib, she had an affinity for felines. She bred Kneazles and kept her own band to be used for intelligence and espionage. She had studied foreign affairs at Oxford and had had a career in the muggle MI6 as a codebreaker and then analyst. Skills she now put to use for Dumbledore. She couldn’t perform magic, but breeding magical creatures and a few other talents, such as brewing potions, wasn’t a major issue. When asked how she defended herself, Mrs. Figg let out a great laugh and showed the inside of her handbag. A short barrelled shotgun, dwarven forged she said, rested right inside. “A chest full of blessed rock salt is going to make anyone think twice. Trust me.”

As she discussed some of her work, telling him that she had permission to at least tell him why she’d never been able to let him have fun, Harry felt himself curious as to the reason she’d asked him there. As if reading his mind, she piped up. “Now, I have some things for you. I know Dumbledore gave you the keys, but I have something you might like even more than adding gold and treasure to your fortune. Here,” she pulled out a box from under her chair. It was made of linden wood, she said. A single ruby in the shape of a roaring lion’s head was the keyhole.

He opened it and felt his curiosity piqued. “Dumbledore said to give it to you once the war started.” She cleared the breakfast and went into her kitchen, leaving Harry with the box and its contents.

  
  


Harry walked home, the box under his arm, his head swimming with information. He was glad to be rid of his old trainers, having chucked them in the bin at Mrs. Figgs. She’d given him a pair of stylish black ankle boots as an early birthday present. He’d hugged her, hard, as a thank you. She said that she had a lot to make up for. Harry had tried to waive her off, but she’d surprised him by revealing, “I knew your parents. They were wonderful people. Least I can do is repay their kindness to their son.” She refused to elaborate, just encouraged him to get home before the Dursleys would yell at him too much for being out. 

He entered Number 4 and walked upstairs. He’d locked his door so that his aunt and uncle wouldn’t stumble in on their unknown house guest. He turned to the full length mirror as he set his new treasure down. The boots went well with the black jeans and sweater he’d chosen. He stopped and wondered when he started to care so much about his appearance. He turned back to the case and opened it once more. He picked up the thick book that lay at the top. It was a spellbook, a very old tome of arcane knowledge Mrs. Figg had said, but he couldn’t get the lock open. He set it to the side and pulled out the other contents. Several sheaves, bound in leather, various legal minutiae within, that he knew he’d ask Hermione and Draco to go over with him. 

Various other items he hadn’t inspected remained within, but he decided to wait until he was with his friends to consider them. He stored everything away and just barely fit the box comfortably in his trunk. He turned to the small and ruffled, but now admittedly cute ball of gold and scarlet that was Fawkes. He scooped the Phoenix up and set him down on the desk. He opened his window and looked outside. He turned to his snowy owl. “I’ll see you at the Tonks’.” She nipped his ear affectionately and took off out the window. 

Harry passed the hours by reading and double checking everything. His intent was to clear out his room. He even checked under the loose floorboard, finding two chocolate frogs that were still good. He gladly wolfed them down, tucking the cards into his pocket. Soon enough, night fell. He walked down stairs at 6, his stomach gurgling. Thanks to excitement he’d barely eaten all day. As he entered the kitchen, he could feel the tension. Uncle Vernon was in his best casual outfit, the same for Aunt Petunia. Dudley seemed to try and keep himself as diminutive as possible, which was a feat considering he’d gone from a block of lard to a block of pure muscle, not to mention he’d grown in height considerably. 

Harry quietly ate his dinner, his portions always smaller than the Dursleys. At 7, as they all retired to the lounge, Harry went back upstairs to bring down his trunk. He put Fawkes in Hedwig's empty cage, covered by spare straw and newspaper, his obsidian black eyes peeking out every now and again, as if it were a game. The air grew tense as the clock struck 8, but right on time there was a knock on the door. Harry opened it.

Albus Dumbledore stood on the threshold in a midnight blue traveling cloak and matching wizard’s hat. Underneath he wore silvery blue robes and high heeled boots. “Good evening Harry, prompt I see.” The headmaster smiled kindly, his eyes twinkling behind his half moon spectacles. 

“Hello Professor, it’s good to see you.”

“And you as well, my boy. Now, let us assume you’ve invited me right in, it’s ill advised to loiter in the open these days.” Harry sprung aside as the Headmaster swooped into the Dursley’s home. “I presume your aunt and uncle and charming cousin await us in the lounge?” Harry wasn’t sure what to do, but nodded slowly. “Excellent, excellent.” Dumbledore walked ahead, Harry tripping over himself to keep up. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, and young Mr. Dursley. Charming, how charming.” Harry walked in to find his aunt, uncle, and cousin cowering on the couch, staring at the imposing Hogwarts Headmaster. An awkward silence filled the room, before Dumbledore smiled. 

“Let us presume you have invited me to sit down,” and he did so with a flourish, flicking aside his cloak. His gloved hand held his wand, his aunt and uncle recoiling, while clutching their son. Dumbledore made no notice. “And let us presume, again, you’ve offered me refreshments.” He flicked his wand and five glasses appeared and a dusty bottle floated about, pouring a rich golden liquid. The glasses floated over to everyone, Harry clutching and sipping his. He made an appreciative sound.

“Madam Rosmerta’s finest oak matured mead.” Dumbledore smiled happily at him, and flicked his head at the seat next to him. Harry sat, starting to enjoy immensely the sheer ludiocry of this turn of events. “Now, to business,” the Professor turned to Harry. “As you are aware, the events of the last year have galvanized the magical community. Thanks to your memories, and testifying under veritaserum, the Ministry has been forced to accept the return of Lord Voldemort. As such, Cornelius Fudge, again as you are aware, has resigned as Minister and the Wizengamot has named Amelia Bones as his successor.” Harry nodded, while the Dursleys merely stared wide eyed, utterly unaware of what any of this meant. 

“We are now in a state of open warfare. As such, the Ministry is busy preparing all manner of contingencies, including increasing security for the school term. Now, when this comes to you, Harry, you can imagine that there are certain concerns. You’re not exactly the most model student when it comes to observing school rules.” Dumbledore leveled him with a stare that was both teasing and serious. Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s not that I seek out trouble Professor, it’s just that -”

“Trouble always seems to find you? Yes, I could certainly see that as being the case a good deal of the time.” Dumbledore chuckled. “As such, you will accept that some extra precautions need to be taken. The Ministry has asked to assign you a guard, but I’ve arranged that Dobby check in on you periodically, and Nymphadora Tonks will be leading the new security team at Hogwarts. You’ll be checking in with her from time to time as well.” Harry knew that by the Professor’s tone, no argument was to be had. He nodded, happy it was Tonks. While he liked Dobby, he was a little concerned about his overzealousness in protecting him. He still remembered the night when he regrew thirty two bones.

“As for the next set of matters, as I informed you Sirius named you his sole heir and therefore you inherit all of his possessions and positions. This includes Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” Harry shrugged.

“Sole heir? His godfather’s dead?” Dumbledore stopped and looked at Mr. Dursley, before nodding once. 

“Yes. He is.” Uncle Vernon’s words were like a gut punch. 

“You’re welcome to keep using it as Order Headquarters,” Harry said, shrugging. He didn’t care for the place, not really. He remembered how much Sirius hated it, being shut up there. Dumbledore nodded.

“That is most generous of you, but we’ve vacated it temporarily, and I’ll get to why in a moment. As for financial matters, I understand that you’ve been handed a number of documents by our mutual acquaintance and I encourage you to have Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger look at them with you.” Harry was glad Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned Mrs. Figg. He rather liked the real her and hoped to continue to get to know her. If the Dursley’s knew, they’d put a stop to it out of spite.

“You also inherit the Black Family Vault at Gringotts Bank and add a considerable sum to your already formidable fortune.” At this Uncle Vernon perked up. 

“He has a fortune.” Dumbledore paused and turned to them, as if just remembering they were there. He nodded, sagely. 

“Harry’s parents and now his godfather, were all wise enough to make him sole heir. Now,” Dumbledore turned back to Harry, ignoring the Dursley’s. “We have two other items to cover.”

“Why hadn’t we, as the boy’s guardians, been informed of this before now.” Vernon Dursley was truly a master at being blunt, rude, and hurtful all at the same time. Dumbledore turned to him again, leveling his piercing blue eyes until Mr. Dursley squirmed. 

He turned back. “Now, you have also taken ownership of the hippogriff Buckbeak.”

“Hagrid can have him,” said Harry immediately. “He’ll be happy to have him back...though I guess we should call him Witherwings.” Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

“Harry, my boy, great minds think alike. Excellent. Now,” Dumbledore’s countenance grew grave, “the most pressing matter, and this cover’s Number 12 Grimmauld Place, is ownership. As I said your godfather named you sole heir. However, as you are not a member of The House of Black by blood or marriage, there is a question as to whether or not your inheritance has gone through. Hence vacating the house.”

“I repeat. He’s been left a house? Why weren’t Petunia and I informed of this? We’ve given our lives to provide for him, without any sort of compensation and -”

“Mr. Dursley.” Dumbledore’s voice was firm, and it seemed to echo around the room. “I do have reason to speak with you and your charming wife, but you will wait until I have finished my business here with your nephew.” He turned back to Harry as the Dursley’s shrunk towards each other and cowered some more. 

“As I was saying, you aren’t a member of the Black Family, so there is a question whether or not your inheritance goes through. If it does not, the family vault, house, and more passes to Sirius’s nearest living relative, Bellatrix Lestrange.” Harry stood, rage coursing through him. He clenched his fists. 

“No.” Dumbledore regarded him kindly. 

“Yes, I agree that it would be a most unfortunate turn of events. Yet, without knowing for sure, we are in a bit of a pickle, to steal a muggle phrase.” Dumbledore held up his wand and the Dursley’s flinched. “There is one sure proof way to know however.” He flicked his wand and with a crack and a puff of smoke, a grime covered Kreacher appeared. 

Aunt Petunia shrieked, Dudley pulled his feet up, and Uncle Vernon screamed, “what the blood hell is that thing!?”

Kreacher pounded his feet on the ground, tugged at his ears, and in a bullfrog voice kept croaking, “won’t, won’t won’t go! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bella, oh yes, to Miss Bellatrix I belong!”

“As you can see Harry, Kreacher is expressing a good deal of reluctance to pass into your ownership.” Harry couldn’t blame him. He stared at Kreacher with nothing less than complete loathing. 

“I don’t want him,” he huffed out. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and over the din of Aunt Petunia’s whimpers and sobs, and Kreacher’s screaming, he asked Harry.

“Do you really wish to release him from your custody? Given everything he knows regarding the Order and the Anti-Voldemort effort?” Between these questions and Kreacher’s screaming, and Petunia’s whimpering, Harry had had enough. 

“KREACHER! SHUT UP!” Suddenly, the grubby house elf looked up, and it was as if Harry had flicked a switch. The elf gulped and gulped and finally threw himself hard to the floor and proceeded to have a fit, silently.

“Well,” said Dumbledore, with a bit of mirth, “that settles that.” He glanced down at Kreacher, “may I suggest sending him to Hogwarts? The other elves will keep an eye on him.”

Harry nodded, happy to be rid of him. “Yeah, perfect. Kreacher,” the house elf looked up at him with hatred, “go to Hogwarts and stay there. Work in the kitchen with the other house elves, and don’t leave or do anything other than work without my permission.” Harry knew he had to give exact instructions, otherwise Kreacher would go off to some distant cousin of the Blacks, like the Goyles or Crabbes like last time, and reveal secrets. 

With one last look of hatred, Kreacher disapparated. “That settles that then.” Dumbledore motioned for Harry to sit down. “Now,” he turned to the Dursleys. They still hadn’t drunk their mead. With a final flick of his wand, Dumbledore transferred the mead from their glasses into his and Harry’s empty ones. They then disappeared. “As you may be aware, the dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort has returned and the magical community is in a state of open warfare. Lord Voldemort, as you know, has tried to kill Harry on a number of occasions already. As such, I am informing you that upon his return from school this year, your home will be receiving increased protection.” At this the Dursley’s paled, but seemed to be struck silent. 

“I will also be visiting you one last time at the start of next year’s summer holiday to discuss Harry’s living arrangements, as the magic I invoked by sending him here when he was a baby will end in a year's time.” Dumbledore stood, Harry following him. “With that, good evening.” He swept from the room. Harry looked at the Dursley’s awkwardly. 

“Well, uh...bye.” He darted out of the room. Fawkes was in the headmasters hand and the trunk and cage were gone. 

“I sent them along to the Tonks,” and he placed Fawkes within the folds of his robes. “Now, let us journey out into the night and meet that flighty temptress, adventure.”

**______________________________**

Harry awoke to two grinning faces. Well, one grinned and the other smirked. He put on his glasses and gave a wave, smiling as Crookshanks jumped up onto his bed, purring. He rubbed the squishy cats head. “So, good morning D, Hermione.” 

“What’s the matter, Potter? Don’t greet your two best friends?” Hermione scowled at Draco. Harry yawned, used to Draco’s teasing. 

“It was late and you were asleep. Is their breakfast,” Harry asked as his stomach rumbled. As if he were a swami predicting the future, the door opened and Nymphadora Tonks entered, bearing a breakfast tray laden down with his favorites. 

“You actually brought that up here without dropping it?” Draco raised an eyebrow before doubling over as Hermione elbowed him in the side. 

“Shove it, Dragon Boy.” She kissed Harry on the cheeks before plopping down noisily. Her hair was a vibrant orange today. “Wotcher Harry.” He smiled, mouth full of eggs. Andromeda stepped through the door. 

“Harry dear. Good, you’re awake.” She turned to Tonks. “Your father is clearing the garden so you’re off the hook, but there's a ministry owl downstairs for you.” Tonks left in a hurry. Andromeda sighed. “It’s been like this since the war started. Always something.” She handed over the day's copy of the Prophet and a sweet bun covered in glaze. “I know I said it last night, but happy birthday dear. When you’ve bathed, come on down.” 

“Happy Birthday by the way. I know we haven’t said it, but we weren’t entirely sure if you’d be excited.” Hermione watched him warily, but Harry just shrugged. 

“It is what it is, my inheritance will come and my powers will manifest. Draco and you have already started experiencing symptoms. You’ve been experiencing them for months.” Draco harumphed as he scanned the paper. 

“Any deaths,” asked Hermione with a forced casual air. Draco shook his head no. 

“They’re busy recruiting. Aurors, Security Warlocks and Witches, Hit Squad, et cetera. They want to build up a proper army.” He looked at Hermione who shrugged. 

“It makes sense, they didn’t have one during the first war and lost too many skilled and talented spellweavers. I overheard Tonks speaking to Remus that Minister Bones wants the Order to become a formal ministry body, to lead the fight. Dumbledore’s resisting.” Harry perked up at hearing one of their favorite former teacher’s names. 

“Remus has been here?” Draco and Hermione exchanged a look. “What?” They both started to laugh, but Tonks rejoined them, looking exasperated, so they shut it. 

“What’s the matter, Clumsy? Didn’t knock over a china cabinet and afraid you’re losing yourrrrrraaaaghhhhhh.” Draco recoiled as the Red-Hot Stipples hit him. Tonks hadn’t even looked at him, she had just flicked her wand, the tip of which was now an angry cherry red. 

“No, just setting up the security for Hogwarts isn’t going the way we wanted.” The three looked at her expectantly. She gawked. “Oh no, uh-uh, not happening. Ministry business, Auror business for that matter.” She pulled out her knife and began cleaning underneath her fingernails. They sighed. Not that she could blame them for trying. “Mum said you were late getting in Harry, why?” He shrugged and regaled them with the tale of recruiting Professor Slughorn to return to Hogwarts.

  
  


As the day wore on, the comfy, but stately, home of the Tonks family began to fill up with members of the Order of the Phoenix, journeying there for Harry’s birthday dinner. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find the Weasley family, sans Ron, who “wasn’t feeling well.” Draco had been prepared to make a sharp remark but was stopped with a threatening glare from Andromeda. Mrs. Weasley even baked the cake, a giant floating snitch with fluttering wings. She joined Mrs. and Mr. Tonks in the kitchen, happily pitching in. 

Harry relaxed in the lounge, playing a game of exploding snap with the Twins and Draco, while Hermione and Ginny caught up, Ginny rolling at eyes as they discussed Ron’s six years of stupidity. They all gathered in the west garden, next to Harry’s favorite spot, the pond, around a table laden with dishes. Harry was glad to be surrounded by many Order members. He sat next to Draco, who slung his arm across the back of Harry’s chair. Draco was more likely to show affection in small ways than say it. Hermione sat across from them, next to Ginny. As the night wore on, Mrs. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley kept pushing him to eat more and more. After four helpings of multiple excellent courses, Harry leaned back, his jeans tighter than when he’d sat down, and far more full than when he’d sat down. They’d done a rousing chorus of happy birthday and now he was content to laze about with his friends. 

Unfortunately, everyone had to leave soon after, no time for presents, as they had a late night Order meeting, to be attended by Minister Bones. Harry received many a hug, his back aching from Hagrid’s mighty pat on the back. Draco and Hermione helped him cart everything up to his room, the one that had practically become his at this point after so many years. As they settled in and got into comfy clothes, Ted Tonks came in. “Alright you three, no funny business. Dromeda and I are off to the meeting. The Ministry has a perimeter guard, just step outside the front and they’ll be there for you.” He smiled kindly and waved his wand. A tray with a kettle and mugs floated in and he left them. 

They sat in silence for a bit before Draco pushed packages to Harry. “Come on then Potter. Let’s see what level of crap you’ve been given for your birthday.” Hermione and Harry rolled their eyes, but he began tearing off the paper. A pile lay before him not too long after, a pair of dragonhide gloves from Romania and a matching black handknit sweater from the Weasleys, a mokeskin pouch from Hagrid, broom care products from Draco, which he was glad for since he was out, a new spellbook on offensive and defensive magic from Hermione called “A Battlemage’s Guide”, and a wide variety of useful supplies and items for school. It seemed he’d only need new books for the term. Most of everything else he needed had been replaced.

Hermione took most of everything and began sorting it out, preparing to pack it away for the term. “So, might as well tell you both about Mrs. Figg.” Harry’s two best friends turned to him, curious, as he regaled them with her transformation from frumpy cat woman to posh Kneazle breeder. They both took joy in Dudley’s surprise, but were anxious when he mentioned the box.

“Well pull it out, Harry. If Dumbledore wants us to read these papers, we’ve better get started.” Draco sneered. 

“It’s 9 at night. Can’t this wait?” However, under Hermione’s baleful look, he acquiesced and they both watched, and Draco showed more interest as he saw the box, as Harry pulled it out. They began digging into the contents. After a good hour his friends sat back, whistling. 

“Well,” Harry asked, “what is it?” Hermione piped up.

“Basically these are all legal documents. One sheave,” she held up a silver backed notebook, “for the House of Black. It covers everything you’ve inherited, including their vault.” 

“And this sheave,” Draco held up a golden backed notebook, “for the House of Potter. It’s all of your family’s holdings, et cetera. You’re wealthier than I am and that’s saying something.” They spent the rest of the evening discussing the various documents, deciding to hold off on looking at the other items, wrapped in cloth with twine, until the next few days. Before long they all said goodnight, Harry drifting off to sleep curious as to what his inheritance would mean for him. 

**______________________________**

Harry spent the following days going over the documents while enjoying the rest of his summer vacation. He also went through the items in the box. The first was a unicorn horn snuff box with rose gold filigree. He wasn’t entirely sure as to the point of it, but it was pretty to look at. The second item was far more interesting. A dagger made of “dragonglass, Harry. That’s dragonglass.” Hermione had been in awe when he pulled the dagger from the wrappings. The handle was dragon tooth, with a carving of galloping stags. Hermione explained that obsidian formed from dragon fire was called dragonglass and had unique properties. The surface rippled, like damascus steel. The third item was a set of wooden panpipes. There were seven pipes, each in the shape of different animals. A trout, a hawk, a boar, a hound, an elk, a unicorn, and a dragon all stared back at him. When he tried to blow into them, no sound came out. 

They searched the documents and asked the Tonks what they thought of the snuff box and pipes, but even they weren’t sure. Soon, the trio forgot the items, save the occasional pondering or tidbit of information Hermione would throw out. All in all, they spent their time enjoying each other's company in the gardens and pond, the occasional tidbit coming in from the outside world. Draco did force them all to join him in working out every morning and Hermione did insist on some studying. However one particularly lazy Saturday saw Draco swimming in the pond while Hermione sunbathed on the little dock. Harry had dipped his feet in and was admiring the sunlight as it caught on his new dagger. Draco waded over to him. 

“When you’re done eye fucking your knife, we should talk about going to London.” Harry ignored him, but Hermione piped up.

“Why would we do that?” Draco smirked at Harry, who narrowed his eyes. 

“Makeover.” Harry scowled.

“No.”

Harry sighed for the millionth time, questioning why he was friends with either of them as he sat on the train to London. They’d get there soon and Draco and Hermione were determined to make him spend the day shopping, and doing all sorts of other madness. They had convinced him with a trip to Diagon Alley, reminding him that they should visit Gringotts anyways, considering his inheritance. They also wondered about visiting Grimmauld Place, though the ashen look on Harry’s face convinced them it was unlikely and a bad idea.

When they had asked permission to spend the day in London, Andromeda and Ted had been wary, but Tonks said she’d tag along. She discreetly entertained them by metamorphosing herself during the trip down. As they exited the train into Kings Cross, Hermione hailed a taxi and they piled in. Twenty minutes later found the trio on some street with high end boutiques. Harry looked around and raised an eyebrow at all of them. “How exactly do you plan on me buying a new wardrobe without any money?” 

**______________________________**

**Author's Note:**

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